


Make The Yuletide Gay

by flowercrownfemme



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Babies, Baking, Christmas, Christmas In Connecticut AU, Domestic Fluff, Everybody Owes Louis Favors, Everyone's gay, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Famous Harry, Famous Louis, Fluff, Girl Direction, Harry Has A Bunch Of Lesbian Fans And They're All Me, It's Just A Farm Full Of Gay Pals, Mommy Blogger Louis, Nancy The Cow, Non-Famous Louis, She's Semi Well Known, Snow, So Sort Of, farm animals, girl harry, girl louis, housewife louis, pop star harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 12:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17121155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowercrownfemme/pseuds/flowercrownfemme
Summary: Lou was lying, Harry was sure of it.Harry could call it off right then, ask what was really going on and go back home to spend Christmas Eve alone, or she could play along and spend the night in what seemed to be a farmhouse built on lies with maybe the prettiest girl she’d ever met in real life. She couldn’t deny that she was intrigued by it all.Plus she’d always had a weakness for women with babies.A Christmas In Connecticut AU in which Louis is a mommy blogger, Harry is a pop star, and nobody's really what they seem. Featuring a lot of lying, tons of domesticity, some badly faked heterosexuality, and a few Christmas kisses.





	Make The Yuletide Gay

**Author's Note:**

> I literally wrote this in about a week but I wanted to post it before Christmas and I'm low key proud that it got finished at all. Thank you to Liliana and Noa and Phoenix for letting me run ideas by y'all and for motivating me to finish it <3 <3 <3  
> It's a Christmas In Connecticut AU so obviously it was heavily inspired by the movie, which I highly recommend watching because it's so good and weird and cute (the 1945 version, apparently there's a remake directed by Arnold Schwarzenegger???? I have not seen it) and I tried to weave a lot of nods to it throughout this fic. The first couple of sentences of Louis' blog post are taken directly from some opening narration in the movie, and the last two lines of dialogue are also direct quotes.  
> Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays/Happy December!  
> <3 <3 <3

“ _ From the living room window as I write, I can look out along the broad front lawns of our farm - like a lovely picture postcard of wintery England. In my fireplace the good cedar logs are burning and crackling. I’ve just stopped to go into my gleaming kitchen to test the crumbly brown goodness of the toasted veal cutlets in my oven. I’m trying out recipes for Christmas, hoping to perfect our holiday meal. Quinoa is still too young for solids but I’ll be serving up some of her favorite Ella’s Kitchen Butternut Squash Puree for the occasion (Use discount code Lou28 for 15% off your next order). When Leroy gets back in from stacking the hay I’ll have him taste the veal and perhaps I’ll add it to our Christmas menu. Below I’ve listed the recipe so you can make it for your own family at home - maybe for the holidays as well! Either way we’ll be snuggled up warm by the fire with our lovely baby and our beloved cow, Nancy, who I could never bare to leave outside on Christmas. I can’t wait until the house is filled with the smell of sugar cookies and roasted chestnuts, as is our Christmas Eve tradition, and all our stockings are hung on the mantle. It’s such a lovely time of year, isn’t it?” -Lou Tomlinson, The Mother Hen _

 

“ _ Fuck! _ ” Louis hissed, quickly brushing away the burning embers that had fallen from her cigarette and landed on her bare knee. She scrambled around, making sure she hadn’t singed her duvet again, knocking over her laptop as she went. The tea kettle on the little stove across the room was screaming and there was wind howling outside, making her dreary little flat feel like even more of a small metal box.

She jumped out of bed, socked feet sliding over the laminated floor as she pulled the kettle off the heat and pulled out a mug and a teabag. She poured the steaming water over the bag and set it all aside to steep, pulling out her phone and scrolling through Twitter and taking another drag of her cigarette while she waited. She had more notifications than usual which made her frown. She had a pretty big cult of mommy bloggers and Pinterest hobbyists who followed her every word and retweeted anything she posted but she’d had a sudden jump in mentions and followers overnight. She had emails too, she realized, the little envelope symbol nestled along the top of her phone screen.

She scrolled through her notifications, looking for the source to her sudden surge in popularity, until she found it.

 

**Harriet Styles @Harry_Styles**

@GemmaAnneStyles I can’t believe you’re going to leave me alone on Christmas. I was going to make that new @LouTomlinson recipe and everything. No food for you.

 

**Gemma Styles @GemmaAnneStyles**

Sorry @Harry_Styles I think it’ll just be you and your mommy bloggers this year! If you save me some food maybe I’ll bring you back a copy of @LouTomlinson ‘s new cookbook!

 

**Harriet Styles @Harry_Styles**

Nice try @GemmaAnneStyles I’ve already got two of those. Hope you get food poisoning in Jamaica. All the love xx.

 

“What the fuck?” Louis frowned, skimming through the thousands of replies in which people offered this Harriet Styles person invitations to join them for Christmas dinner or to step on their faces or to straight up murder them. Some of them mentioned Louis’ blog though, saying how much they would love to see Harriet baking pies on a farm and holding babies and small animals. Apparently that was something a lot of people wanted, going by the many elaborate tweets detailing the various domestic farm-related things they wanted to see Harriet Styles do. Louis wasn’t sure what percentage of them were weird sex fantasies and which weren’t. There seemed to be a very fine line.

She was just noting how many of the more sexual comments were coming from other girls when her phone started ringing.

“Hello?” she said, stubbing out her cigarette in the tray on the counter.

“Thank God,” a relieved voice breathed out on the other end. “I’ve been trying to contact you for  _ hours _ . Did you get my emails?”

“Uh, maybe,” Louis frowned. “I dunno. Can I ask who this is?”

“My name is Zayn Malik,” the voice explained. “I work with Harriet Styles. We were hoping to arrange something with you, a sort of a get together between you two. We thought she might come out to your farm, pose for a few pictures, eat dinner, maybe stay the night. It’s blown up on Twitter, the idea of you two becoming friends, and we thought we should jump on it before it all blows over.”

“I’m sorry, could you slow down for a minute?” Louis said, furrowing her brows. “I’ve only just seen this whole thing on Twitter. I don’t even know who this Harriet Styles is and you want me to invite her over?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard her songs,” the man told her breezily. “They’re everywhere. She’s a pop singer. It would be good publicity for you both - we get some nice photos to send out and you get to write about your evening with a famous houseguest. It’s a win-win, see?”

“I don’t need publicity,” Louis told him, even though she knew it wouldn’t hurt. The traffic on her website had been going down in the past few months and her sponsorship deals hadn’t been coming in as frequently.

“Everyone needs publicity,” he argued. “I’ll have someone email you all the details you’ll need - you just send back your address and we’ll send her over.”

“Send her - ? When are you planning on doing this all? I can’t just - !”

“We’ll do it Christmas Eve,” he said flippantly. “She can make an Instagram story about it. Her day on the farm. The fans will love it.”

“I’m really not sure if I can - ”

“We’ll be in touch!”

The line went dead and Louis took a deep breath, looking around at her barren one-room flat, with the broken radiator and the folding table next to the bed. There was a pop star coming to her farm, to come see her husband and her baby and her pet fucking cow.

But she didn’t have a farm, or anything really.

She was going to have to call in a lot of favors.

“I don’t want to go intrude on someone else’s Christmas just because I’m lonely,” Harry whined, draped lethargically across her living room couch, her legs hooked up over the back and her head hanging off the edge. “That goes against, like, everything my mum’s ever taught me. Especially not a  _ stranger! _ With  _ children! _ She’ll hate me!”

“I thought it was just one kid,” Zayn said, glancing back at his phone. “Does she have more kids?”

“It’s just the one,” Harry sighed. “Quinoa.”

“Quinoa?” Zayn sputtered, looking up incredulously. “Like the grain?”

“I think it’s a cute name,” Harry pouted. “And she’s only about five months old. Do you know how hard it is taking care of infants? Along with an entire farm? You want to force a houseguest on her on top of that all - on  _ Christmas?” _

Zayn sighed.

“Your fans want it. There’s been some fixation with you milking cows for a while now and this whole Lou Tomlinson thing has only made it worse. If we give them pictures of you on a farm, living out some domestic dream, it could make for some very easy publicity. They’ll go mad for it, I’m sure of it.”

“They want me to milk a cow?” Harry asked, looking a bit pleased. “I could milk a cow. I like cows.”

“You can do whatever you like with the cows,” Zayn told her with a roll of his eyes, “as long as we get some decent pictures to send to the press. Pet some horses. Hold a baby. Bake some Christmas cookies. Everyone will eat it up.”

Harry considered it all for a moment.

She’d always visited her aunt’s farm in the summers growing up and she’d loved helping with the animals and playing in the fields. It might be nice to get back to that environment after so long in the city. And she still didn’t have any plans for Christmas. Plus she’d been following Lou Tomlinson’s blog for so long that it would be a minor dream come true to meet the woman and her family who she’d read so much about, and to be in the kitchen with such an admired chef.

“You know I used to be a baker?”

“I know.”

 

“Thank you, Nialler,” Louis sighed, hugging him as she walked through the door. “You’re a lifesaver I swear.”

“My farm is your farm,” he grinned, taking her suitcase and leading her into the house. “I hope this means we’re even for the Newcastle Incident.”

“You made me drive all the way from Doncaster.”

“And you’ve held it over my head every day since.”

“Your car wasn’t even  _ broken _ , Niall. You were just out of gas.”

“I’m lending you my entire farm on Christmas!”

“We had to wait four hours for the tow truck!”

“Louis!” Niall’s husband grinned, skipping down the stairs to pull her into a hug. “It’s been too long since you’ve visited!”

“Hi, Shawn!” Louis laughed. “I trust that you’ve been keeping a keen eye on Niall’s fuel gage?”

Shawn looked between them confusedly.

“Uh, yeah,” he smiled, his brows furrowed. “It’s, uh, it’s good.”

He added a small thumbs up for good measure.

“My mum’ll be over in the morning with Doris and my husband should be along any moment now,” she told them, craning her neck to glance out the front window.

“Your husband?” Shawn frowned, looking to Niall for help. “I thought you were - ?”

“My blog husband,” Louis explained with a proud grin. “Lucky for Liam I had a few favors to call in with him too so he gets the honor of being my husband for the evening. My loving, doting, strapping young husband!”

She pretended to faint at the thought of him.

“He’s also the only man I know who could possibly pass as straight.”

“I could pass!” Niall told her indignantly, puffing out his chest.

“Sure, sure,” she told him placatingly, patting his shoulder. “You would have been a great fake husband, but we’d have had to send Shawn away. We all know how you get around him - wouldn’t want them all to think my husband was shagging our stablehand.”

“Yeah,” he said, his expression going soft as he pulled Shawn’s hand up to kiss his knuckles.

They were broken apart by a knock at the door and Louis’ screech of “My husband!”

She flung open the door and launched herself at Liam, hooking her arms around his neck as he teetered back, his bags still clutched in his hands.

“Oh how I’ve missed you, Darling!” Louis simpered, laughing delightedly as Liam walked them both into the main room and kicked the door shut behind them “Carrying me in just like when we were newlyweds! What a gentleman!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughed, trying to set her down. “Can’t believe I finally pinned you down. All the other lads in town must be so jealous.”

“Jealous of  _ Lou _ , maybe,” Niall cackled, adding Liam’s bags to the growing pile next to the stairs.

“Shut up!” Louis told him. “We’ve got to be straight, remember? I’m the perfect housewife and Liam is my perfect heterosexual husband! We do puzzles together and eat vegetables and fold laundry together and we go to bed at 9:30 and have gross boring missionary sex and then I ignore his snoring and we both go to sleep and pretend not to hate each other! It’s domestic bliss! This is the fantasy I’ve sold to like a million straight women around the world. We need to give them everything they want.”

“Anything you say, Dear,” Liam grinned, placing a loud smacking kiss to her cheek.

“Yuck!” she shrieked, wriggling out of his arms and racing up the stairs. “Get away, you fiend! I can’t pretend to be straight with your gross boy mouth all over me!”

The three men watched her go, laughing at her disgusted screams.

There was a beat of silence before her head popped back up over the railing.

“Are you going to bring up the luggage, Pumpkin?”

Liam gathered up their bags and sighed longsufferingly.

“Well, lads, I’ve got to be off. The old ball and chain is calling.”

They each gave him a mock salute, giggling as he ran after Louis, calling out the worst pet names he could think of.

 

“It’s beautiful,” Harry sighed, her nose pressed against the car window, fogging up the glass until she could barely see at all. She wiped away the condensation with a quick swipe of her sleeve and continued to watch as they neared the farm. “It’s just how I always pictured it.”

“That’s good,” Zayn nodded, tapping away at his phone. “Use that. Put it in your story.”

Harry ignored him, as she often did when he was stuck in business mode.

The car pulled up to the small dirt road that seemed to function as a driveway and Harry tumbled out, wobbling on her feet after such a long drive, looking around in wonder.

The farm was everything she’d dreamt it would be, open fields dusted with sparkling white snow surrounding a large red-brown barn, all laid out behind the cottage-like farmhouse. A small scattering of chickens were pecking around in front of the house, clucking happily despite the chilly weather, and she could hear sounds of other animals beyond the house. She took a deep breath of the cold air, smelling sweet hay and manure and firewood, and grinned.

When she turned to look at Zayn he had his phone pointed at her, trying to capture the moment, and she frowned, waving him off.

“C’mon,” she huffed, dragging her suitcase out of the car.

There was a far-off crash that seemed to come from inside the house followed by a moment of shuffling and some muffled voices before the door swung open. Harry watched open-mouthed as a young woman about her age pranced down the front steps, a baby bouncing on her hip, and grinned at them all.

“Hello!” she cried, throwing them each a winning smile. “I’m Lou Tomlinson, it’s so nice to meet you!”

Harry stumbled forward to take her hand when she offered it, no time to wipe the sweat from her palms before they were pressed together. The baby in her arms cooed around the tiny fist in its mouth.

“Welcome to my farm,” Lou said, throwing out her free arm dramatically and spinning on the spot, making her apron flutter out in front of her and pulling a stream of giggles from her baby.

She was younger than Harry thought she’d be, and prettier too. Harry had half been expecting a nice matronly woman in her forties who would be wading through children and cats to come pinch Harry’s cheeks and offer her cookies. This girl was barely twenty-five and looked more like the kind of girl Harry would be trying desperately to pull if she saw her on a Saturday night. It was throwing her completely off of her axis.

“Hiiiii,” Harry drawled, smiling shyly. “Um, thank you for having us. It’s really very kind of you to do this. Letting us come on such short notice, I mean. Especially on Christmas Eve.”

“Nonsense,” Lou told her, brushing her off. “It’s no trouble, really. My mother always taught me never to say no to houseguests, and to always be prepared enough that you don’t need to. We  _ love _ having guests on our farm. Especially on Christmas Eve.”

She was still grinning but there was a tight clench in her jaw.

“Why don’t you come in?” she asked, looking Harry up and down. “Wouldn’t want you getting cold.”

Harry pulled her suitcase closer to herself, feeling a bit silly in her big leopard coat and her pink sparkly boots. They probably weren’t suited to a farm, but they were made to look like cowboy boots and she hadn’t had an opportunity to wear them since she got them.

She and Zayn followed Lou up the steps and into the warmth of the house, sighing at the heat of the fireplace in the front room and the smell of food coming from the kitchen.

“Make yourselves at home,” Lou told them, dancing through the room. “I don’t know where my husband could have wandered off to...”

“Honey!” a deep booming voice rang out and suddenly Lou was being scooped up into the arms of a burly looking man in a flannel shirt. Harry shifted uncomfortably as they spun around, all three laughing together. A perfect little family.

“Oh, Darling, I’d like you to meet our guests for the evening,” Lou simpered, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow.

“Hello there,” the man smiled kindly, shaking Harry’s hand. “I’m Liam.”

“Harriet,” Harry replied, her brow furrowing as she turned back to Lou. “I thought your husband’s name was Leroy?”

Lou froze where she was watching Zayn and Liam talk, then she cut her eyes down to the baby on her hip, fussing with the crochet bonnet on its head casually.

“Oh, no, Dear,” she said, her tone light but her jaw still tight. “I call him Leroy on my blog for privacy. When I started it he was afraid I’d be talking too much about our lives, revealing too much, so I gave him a little pseudonym. He’s always been so distrustful of technology, still can barely send an email. You know how men are.”

She threw Harry a conspiritory smile and Harry returned it weakly, her eyes still narrowed.

“Yeah.”

“Now, have you both had lunch? I know it’s a bit late but we just finished up a lovely stew. You’ve both been stuck in the car so long I’m sure you’re starving!”

As Lou lead them into the kitchen and started dolling out stew and homemade bread, making light conversation and smiling too big, Harry watched it all with a small frown on her face.

Lou was lying, Harry was sure of it.

Every word out of her mouth was complete bullshit.

Zayn didn’t seem to notice a thing, wrapped up in some deal he was working on his phone. Harry wondered if she should say something, but then Lou was laughing at something Liam said, loud and bright and bell-like, and the baby on her lap was looking up at her like she was the sun itself.

Harry could call it off right then, ask what was really going on and go back home to spend Christmas Eve alone, or she could play along and spend the night in what seemed to be a farmhouse built on lies with maybe the prettiest girl she’d ever met in real life. She couldn’t deny that she was intrigued by it all.

Plus she’d always had a weakness for women with babies.

“Could you pass the butter, please?”

 

Nobody told Louis that Harriet Styles was going to be so bloody attractive.

Of course she could have maybe googled the pop star at any point in the week and a half leading up to their meeting, but she was content to blame Liam and Niall for not letting her in on that fact. Because she was gorgeous, even in a ridiculously fluffy spotted coat and what had to be costume cowboy boots, and it was incredibly rude.

Now Louis was stuck running around in mom jeans and a giant sweater and a fucking apron, her short hair tied up with a flowery kerchief, draping herself all over Liam. If she'd have known Harriet Styles was going to be this fit she'd have worn her pulling jeans, might have styled her hair, might have rethought this entire plan. 

Louis had been expecting some sunglasses-clad Starbucks toting starlet who would sweep through the place without so much as glancing in Louis’ direction, snapping a few selfies and then jumping straight back on her private jet home. Instead she got Harriet, who looked around at everything with big sparkly eyes that seemed to marvel at every single thing on the farm. The man who came with her, Zayn, who Louis had talked to on the phone, kept nudging her around with one hand on her back, talking under his breath and shoving his phone into her hands. Every time Harriet would sigh and hold up the phone, taking a quick picture before handing it back and returning to her exploration of the farm.

Louis didn’t know what to make of it, but she continued on, hoping she was being convincing enough.

“Do you think I could help with the cookies?” Harriet asked when they’d returned from their post-lunch house tour and the guest bedrooms had been made up.

“The cookies?” Louis asked, handing Ernest off to Liam for a bit. Her mum had dropped him off that morning, explaining that Doris had come down with a slight cold so she was keeping her home. Louis had shrugged, figuring that a baby was a baby so as long as she had one of them it didn’t matter which one it was.

“Your Christmas cookies,” Harriet clarified, a sweet smile on her face. “On your blog you said that you bake cookies and roast chestnuts every Christmas. I’ve been looking forward to seeing it all in real life.”

“Oh yes,” Louis nodded, trying not to look panicked. “Of course, my Christmas cookies! It wouldn’t be Christmas without them. I think Liam would just about divorce me if I didn’t make his favorite ones for him.”

“Which are?”

“Hmm?”

“Which cookies are his favorite?” Harriet asked, cocking her head.

Louis looked desperately for Liam but he’d already migrated to the sitting room, bouncing Ernest on his knee as he sat across from Zayn.

“Uh, g-gingerbread,” Louis stuttered, adjusting the kerchief on her head. “He loves it. Always says he waits all year for Christmas just so I’ll make some.”

“Oh I  _ love _ gingerbread cookies,” Harriet smiled, clasping her hands in front of her. “Would you let me help with them? I’ve always wanted to see you in action. I really have been reading your blog for years you know, this is like a dream come true.”

“I- Maybe,” Louis grinned, grinding her teeth. “I can’t let you in on my secret recipe, you know. A woman’s got to have a few secrets.”

“Of course,” Harriet nodded, looking very serious. “Maybe I could help with the shapes and the decorating. I used to work in a bakery you know, I’m very good with my hands.”

Louis choked, coughing to cover it up and nodded non-committedly.

“We’ll see,” she told her. “I run a very tight ship.”

“I’d bet you do,” Harriet grinned wickedly, dropping her gaze and dragging her eyes up Louis’ entire length.

Louis was trying to find a suitable response when she heard crying coming from the other room.

“Hey, uh, Marshmallow?” Liam called.

“Coming, Teddybear!”

Louis swept into the room and scooped up a crying Ernest who struggled against her chest.

“Hey hey, shhh,” she said softly, bouncing him lightly and twisting in place. “What’s wrong, Buddy?”

Everything she did only seemed to make him cry harder until he was full on screaming.

“Is he- uh, is she hungry?” Liam asked, his dark brows pulled together.

“I just fed  _ her _ ,” Louis told him with a tight lipped smile.

“Could I try?” Harriet asked, holding out her hands hesitantly.

Louis sized her up and shrugged before handing off her brother.

“Hey there,” Harriet whispered, tucking Ernest easily against her collar bone and petting the back of his head with gentle fingers. “There’s a sweet girl, what’s going on? What’s got you so worked up?”

His cries continued but he seemed to quiet down considerably.

Harriet continued to coo and shush at him, rocking on her feet and humming before turning to a perplexed Louis.

“What was the last time she had a change?”

“Uh,” Louis frowned. “Noon?”

“Well that’s the problem right there, isn’t it?” Harriet said, holding Ernest out in front of her and speaking directly to him. “Let’s get you changed, huh? That should make everything better.”

She looked between Louis and Liam who were both staring back at her with wide eyes.

“Where’s her changing table?”

“Uh, upstairs,” Louis said, looking pointedly at Liam. “Sugarplum, why don’t you run Quinoa upstairs and give her a quick change?”

“Oh but Darling,” Liam simpered sweetly, “you’re so much better at it than I am. And Zayn here was just asking about the horses. Why don’t you go change, uh,  _ Quinoa _ , and I’ll show him around the stables?”

Louis was going to kill him.

He knew that changing diapers was one of the few things she refused to do for her siblings.

“I - ”

“I would  _ love _ to see the nursery,” Harriet grinned, watching them with the still crying Ernest on her hip. “Won’t you show me, Lou?”

Louis glared at Liam.

“Of course.”

Lucky for them Niall and Shawn were sappy enough to have started collecting baby things even before they were married, ‘just in case,’ so it had been easy to make the smallest guest room into a little nursery. Louis lead Harriet up the stairs and into the room, pulling out the diapers they’d stashed in one of the empty dresser drawers. She hoped that Harriet didn’t notice that they were some of the only things in the room.

Harriet laid Ernest down on the little changing table and Louis leaned over him, trying to figure out how to go about changing a diaper. She undid his pale blue babysuit and unstuck one of the tabs on the diaper, frowning in concentration as she tried to guess at her next move.

“Do you think I could do it?” Harriet asked beside her and Louis tried to hide the way her body seemed to melt in relief.

“Are you sure?” she asked, already moving aside for the other girl to take her place. “You know, I just do it so much. It would be nice for someone else to do it for a change.”

“Oh of course,” Harriet nodded, smiling to herself as she slid a clean diaper under him and undid the tabs with ease.

“Motherhood, you know?” Louis said, picking up a little stuffed rabbit and leaning back against the changing table, playing with its soft floppy ears. “No one tells you how much work it’s going to be. So many diapers. And crying. And vomit. It’s really - ”

“Hey, Lou?” Harriet asked, frowning as she looked down at the baby.

“Mhmm?”

“I thought Quinoa was a girl?”

Louis froze, squeezing the stuffed rabbit hard in her hands.

“What was that?”

“On your blog,” Harriet said, looking at Louis from the corner of her eye. “I thought you always called Quinoa a girl.”

Shit.

Louis forced an easy smile onto her face.

“Uh, yes,” she nodded, glancing over to see that Harriet was just zipping Ernest’s babysuit back up, the old diaper tucked safe in the trash. “Liam and I, we don’t believe in choosing a child’s gender for them. We, um, we prefer to let the child decide for themselves once they’re a bit older. It’s a, uh, a new parenting technique. Quinoa, it’s- It’s gender neutral. The name. We, um, would hate to force anything onto our child like that.”

Harriet’s mouth was trembling and she bit down on her bottom lip harshly, her eyes big and shining. Louis preened a bit, proud that her performance was causing such an emotional reaction.

“That’s,” she began, raising her fingers and pinching the side of her lip. “That’s really beautiful. I think more parents should be doing that.”

“Ah, well,” Louis shrugged, scooping up her brother and turning towards the door. “In a perfect world, you know.”

“I’m surprised you don’t write about it on your blog,” Harriet mused.

    “Maybe I should!” Louis said with a strained sort of laugh.

 

    For a supposedly married woman Lou Tomlinson spent an awful lot of time staring at Harry's chest. 

    It probably didn't help that Harry kept arching her back and had undone one or five of the buttons on her blouse and kept finding excuses to lean over in front of Lou. The other woman didn't even seem to notice her own staring, her eyes just kept flicking down from Harry's eyes to her lips to her chest and back again. Harry knew that she wasn't playing fair but there was nothing fair about how Lou looked with a baby in her arms. She was only evening the playing field, she reasoned.

    Lou was horribly, hideously attractive with a baby on her hip - even if it wasn't her baby. Harry didn't know where this baby had come from but it obviously didn't belong to Lou. Harry had almost blown her cover when Lou tried to explain away the baby's mixed up gender. It had taken every ounce of self control not to burst out laughing then and there.

    “Why don't we go join the boys in the stables?” Lou had asked, obviously eager to change the subject. They walked through the field, their boots crunching on the snow, and found Liam and Zayn standing and chatting with two men Harry hadn’t met.

    “There's my handsome hubby!” Lou exclaimed, giving him a stiff kiss on the cheek. 

    “And my, uh, my wonderful wifey,” Liam winced, flinching when Lou ‘accidentally’ stepped on his foot. “Why don't I take baby Quinoa inside and you can introduce Harriet to all the animals?”

    “You can call me Harry,” Harry told him as Lou handed off the baby. “Nobody calls me Harriet really.”

    “Of course,” Liam smiled, hiking Quinoa up higher on his hip.

    “I’m Niall,” the blond man beside him told her, stepping forward to take her hand. The other man introduced himself as Shawn. “It’s nice to meet you, Harry. I heard Lou’s been hogging you all day.”

    Niall grinned at Lou who shot him a quick glare.

    “It’s been really great seeing the farm,” Harry grinned, looking around the barn. “I’ve read so much about it but it’s different being here, you know? Some things are so  _ different _ from how I imagined them.”

    Niall seemed to be holding back laughter.

    “It’s funny how that works sometimes, isn’t it?” he asked. “Well, if you need anything while you’re here you can always find Shawn or I. We’re just a couple of lowly ranch hands, but I’m sure we can find our ways around pretty well.”

    “Thank you,” Harry nodded, smiling brightly. “I believe Lou was just about to introduce me to the animals?”

    “Oh yes,  _ Lou _ , you’ve got to introduce her to the animals!” Niall had a large expectant grin on his face and even Shawn beside him seemed to be holding back an amused smile. “All of your beautiful animals, with all of their wonderful  _ names! _ ”

    “Yes,” Lou nodded primly, stepping towards the first stall, her body stiff and resigned. “I would love to introduce all of my favorite animals.”

    “Is Nancy here?” Harry asked gleefully. “I’ve always wanted to pet her.”

    “Of course she’s here,” Lou waved her hand elegantly. “Right in there.”

    She gestured to the stall beside her and a head popped up over the gate.

    “Lou,” Harry said, trying to keep her face straight. “I thought Nancy was a cow.”

    “I was... Testing you,” Lou said breezily, glancing back at the horse who had started nosing at her shoulder, and stepped quickly out of reach. “Of course this isn’t Nancy. This is, um, Henry. The horse.”

    “Hello, Henry,” Harry chirped, petting the velvety soft hair on his nose.

    “And this next one is, uh, Abigale.”

    “Hello, Abigale!”

    They made their way down the line of horses and goats and pigs like that, Lou saying the first name to pop into her head and Harry greeting them with a quick pet. Lou seemed oblivious to the tiny name cards next to each stall that labeled each animal with a completely different name than the ones she gave them. Niall and Shawn had long since followed Liam and Zayn back to the house, Shawn dragging Niall out when he couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore. Finally they got to the last stall where a large brown eyed cow stood munching on hay and swaying contentedly.

    “And this must be Nancy!” Harry cried, leaning over the railing to stroke the thick brown fur on her neck. “Oh, she’s just as lovely as I thought she’d be!”

    “Yep,” Lou nodded, standing beside her. “There’s my Nancy. My favorite cow. Best cow in the world.”

    The cow moved closer to Lou who let out a little yelp and jumped back.

    “Aww,” Harry cooed, “she wants a pet from her favorite human! That’s so sweet, how much she loves you.”

    “Uh, yeah,” Lou nodded, looking uneasy as she sized up the massive creature in front of her. “Just gonna give her a pet. Just a little pet. She loves that. Loves a good pet.”

    “We all do,” Harry nodded sagely as Lou inched forward, her arms held close to her chest. Finally she stretched out one hand, giving the cow’s shoulder a light bat with the tips of her fingers and quickly drawing back, regrouping before finally placing a tentative hand on her. Then Nancy let out a low moo and Lou jumped back once more.

    “Harriet?” Zayn called from the front of the barn. “The sun’s about to set. We’ve got to get some more pictures around the farm before we lose the light.”

    “Alright,” Harry called back, sighing.

    “How about you take care of your photo ops and I’ll get dinner ready?” Lou asked, placing a warm hand on Harry’s arm.

    “But I wanted to watch,” Harry pouted. “That’s the whole reason I came.”

    “Maybe in the morning,” Lou said appeasingly, very clearly not willing to budge. “I’ll make pancakes. Maybe you can even flip a few.”

    “Alright,” Harry agreed, watching as Lou darted back to the house.

    “Do you see any milking stools in here?” Zayn asked, pulling up the camera on his phone.

 

    “I owe you all,” Louis sighed, looking at the beautiful spread of roasted chicken, potatoes and carrots and the beautiful spinach salad that Shawn and Niall and made for her. “Seriously. My first born kid is gonna be named Niall Shawn Liam Tomlinson.”

    “They better be,” Niall grumbled, rolling out a layer of the gingerbread cookie dough he’d made. “All you need to do is press the shapes and pop them in the oven.”

    They heard the back door opening and Louis quickly pushed Niall out of the way, clumsily pressing the rolling pin into the dough.

    “You’re back!” she smiled, setting it aside and wiping her brow as though she’d been slaving away. “You’re just in time, I’ve just finished dinner!”

    “Wow,” Harry said, looking impressed by all the food on the table. “It looks beautiful!”

    “Lou, why don’t you put the dough in the fridge so you and Harry can bake your cookies after dinner?” Niall prompted, nodding towards the fridge. “I know you hate when the dough goes soft.”

    “Thank you for reminding me,” Louis said, sending him a grateful smile.

    “Can’t let it go soft,” Harry smirked, watching from her perch at the table. “It’d be useless.”

    Louis almost dropped the cookie dough on the way to the fridge.

 

    Bless Liam, he seemed like an absolutely lovely fake husband, but it was obvious that he was starting to crumble under all the pressure.

    “Could you pass me some more potatoes, Love?” he asked during dinner, schooling his face into a sort of stoned look of love.

    “There you go, Sweet Cheeks,” Lou smiled, scooping some into his plate. 

    “Thanks, Sweet...” Liam frowned, thinking hard, obviously running out of pet names. “Ass. Um.”

_     Sweet Ass. _

    Lou’s smile soured and she twitched, making Liam gasp when her foot collided with his shin under the table. Harry almost choked on her bite of carrot.

    Liam mostly kept quiet after that. 

    “This chicken is wonderful, Lou,” Harry grinned, cutting another piece. “What are all these herbs you used?”

    “Oh, you know,” Lou waved her hand. “All the usual ones.”

    “Like?” Harry prompted.

    “Basil,” she pinched a bit of bay leaf and held it up, “oregano,” she pointed to some thyme, “dill,” lemongrass, “coriander,” parsley, “and, uh, a flower. For decoration.” She held up a sprig of rosemary.

    She was wrong. So wrong it made Harry want to kiss her and cook for her and fold her laundry. She wanted to grow a whole herb garden just to make Lou guess which plant was which, if only to see the cute little scrunch of her nose as she ran through every herb she could think of in her head and tried to match them up. 

    “Wow,” Harry simpered, tucking her hand under her chin. “You're such a wonderful cook. Liam's a very lucky man.”

    “That he is,” Lou nodded, face pinched.

    “And you've got such a lovely home,” Harry continued.

    “We're all just lucky,” Lou shrugged. “Lucky lucky.”

    “All the pictures are so lovely as well,” Harry smiled innocently. 

    Lou seemed to pale, suddenly remembering all of the family portraits Niall and Shawn had around the house. Niall coughed, trying to cover up his snickering at the other end of the table. 

    “I think it's cute that you have so many photos of your ranch hands in the house.”

    “Uh, yes,” Lou nodded, taking a sip of her wine. “We believe in, uh, appreciating our staff. We see them more like members of our family than our employees.”

    “I think that's beautiful,” Harry told her earnestly. “Especially the one of them kissing in front of the Eiffel Tower, I think that one's lovely.”

    She winked at Niall whose face had long since gone pink with held back laughter. 

    “So do I,” Lou agreed obliviously. “It's my favorite.”

    “And the ones of Barack Obama...”

    After dinner Lou and Harry pulled the cookie dough out of the fridge and set to work picking out which shapes they’d use to cut them out.

    “What’s this one supposed to be?” Lou asked, holding up a rather phallic looking cookie cutter.

    “Looks like a prick,” Harry giggled, craning her neck for a better look.

    “It can’t be,” Lou frowned. “Can it?”

    “I think it’s a candlestick,” Harry told her. “But that’s the beauty of cookie cutting. Depending on how you decorate it you can use one shape for any number of things. You could use this one and add a little frosting here, maybe some sprinkles down there, and just set your imagination free.”

    “Huh,” Lou said, still squinting at the shape.

    “Not so sure I’d like that one though,” Harry mused, reaching for a nice round butterfly. “I might prefer this one. There’s more possibilities, I think. You could leave it as a butterfly, or you could turn it into a sort of a flower. Get very artistic. A bit Georgia O'Keeffe.”

    Lou looked over at her with furrowed brows before exchanging her candlestick for a more innocent looking snowman.

    “Should we roll the dough more?” she asked, hovering the snowman just above the dough as she appraised it. “Does it need to be thinner?”

    “Aren’t you the master baker?” Harry asked wryly.

    “Well you’re the guest,” Lou shrugged. “Thought I’d give you a say.”

    “I think it’s good,” Harry told her, leaning closer for a better look. “I prefer it a bit thick.”

    She flicked her eyes down Lou’s body purposefully and Lou seemed to freeze for a moment before pressing her cookie cutter down and ignoring Harry completely.

    “A thick cookie’s always good,” Lou hummed politically. “My, um, Liam. He likes those.”

    “I’m sure he does,” Harry smirked.

    They kept cutting out cookies, lining them up on baking sheets until only thin scraps of dough were left on the table.

    “Are we going to bake anything else?” Harry asked. “Zayn promised me I could bake a pie with you.”

    “Not tonight I don’t think,” Lou said, pressing her final shape. “It’s getting late. Maybe tomorrow?”

    “Drat,” Harry huffed, hoping up to perch on the counter. “I love baking pies. I like all the fillings. With cookies there’s not much dough left on the spoon to lick off, but with pie filling there’s tons. It’s much stickier. Fruitier. More fun to lick, you know?”

    Lou hummed, seemingly determined to pretend Harry wasn’t there at all.

    “Everyone likes a good lick,” Harry said matter-of-factly, swinging her feet against the cabinets. “Do you?”

    Lou sputtered, coughing to cover it up.

    “Do I what?”

    “Like a good lick.”

    “Uh, sure,” Lou nodded trying to straighten out her face. “Pie. Love pie. And, uh, all that.”

    “Pie’s great,” Harry agreed. “Lots of fun things to do with pie. It’s a bit like life, innit? Sometimes you’re the pie crust, but like, sometimes you wanna be the filling. I think I’d like both, really. I’m quite versatile like that.”

    Lou looked back at her, blushing despite the clear confusion on her face.

    “Err, sure,” she said, turning back to the cookies. “I think we should put these back in the fridge to firm back up. That’s what Niall- I mean, that’s what _I_ usually do.”

    “Of course,” Harry grinned, pleased by the dark flush left on Lou’s cheeks. She seemed genuinely scandalized by it all. Harry was quite proud of herself. “And then off to bed?”

    “Mhmm,” Lou hummed, closing the fridge once all the trays were stacked inside.

    “But not before you’ve tucked Nancy in, I’m sure?” Harry implored.

    “What was that?”

    “I wouldn’t want you to forget,” Harry explained innocently. “I know it’s so important to you, you’ve said so on your blog. How your cow can’t get to sleep at night without a goodnight kiss from you. How _you_ can’t sleep knowing _she_ can’t sleep. I’d hate for you to wake up and realize you’d forgotten about her.”

    “Of course,” Lou said with another tight smile. “Let’s go get Margaret off to bed.”

    “Nancy,” Harry corrected.

    “Of course.”

 

    Harriet Styles had been flirting with her, Louis was almost sure of it.

    It didn’t make sense, because she was a pop star and almost definitely straight, but God if Louis didn’t want to flirt back. It was almost excruciating, having a pretty girl touch her arm and giggle and make innuendos the  _ one time _ Louis was trying to act straight. It was terrible, completely dreadful, and Louis wondered what she must have done in another life to deserve it. She didn’t think it could get any worse but then they were walking back to the barn to visit Louis’ stupid fake cow and Harriet let out an honest to God gasp and grabbed onto Louis’ arm.

    “Lou!” she breathed, the word fogging out in front of her like smoke. “Look!”

    It had started snowing, just a light swirl of snowflakes dancing around them like powdered sugar through a sifter. It seemed to glitter in the moonlight, catching on Harry’s chocolate curls and her eyelashes, dusting her in shimmering white. She smiled wide, dimples folding into her cheeks, and Louis swallowed down everything she wanted desperately to say.

    “C’mon,” Harriet grinned, running into the field and dancing through the snow, stretching out her arms and spinning in place. She threw her head back, laughing breathlessly as snowflakes kissed her face. Louis watched fondly as she pranced about, crunching over the snow that had already fallen and no doubt ruining her expensive boots. All of her clothes were probably ruined, but she didn’t seem to mind. She just kept dancing, skipping and leaping and twirling like a one woman production of the Nutcracker. “Lou!” she called, running back out of breath and grabbing Louis’ hands. “Come dance with me.”

    She pulled her out into the pasture and tugged her into a spin, each of them leaning back and laughing as they slipped through the snow and spun wildly in the moonlight. Louis let herself be lead all across the field, creating wild swirling patterns in the snow with their boots, until they both collapsed into the icy blanket below.

    “The snow is for sweethearts,” Harry said matter-of-factly, stretching out her limbs for a snow angel.

    “What does that mean?” Louis laughed, watching. Always watching.

    “It’s romantic, isn’t it?” Harry asked, face relaxed in a wide satisfied smile. “It’s meant to have someone to cuddle with, to hold close. Someone to keep warm with.”

    “I guess,” Louis shrugged, offering her hand to help Harriet up so that she could see her creation. She pulled her up and the girl steadied herself against Louis’ chest, bringing them almost nose to nose. Louis could feel her warm breath against her mouth and it made her shiver. “Do you have a sweetheart?”

    “No,” Harry smiled. “But I’ve got someone in mind.”

    “Oh?” Louis asked, forcing herself to step back, to make some distance between them. Harry foiled it, stepping after her and slipping her arm through Louis’, pressing up against her side. “Anyone I’d know? It’s not Zayn, is it?”

    “Never,” Harry shook her head, holding tight to Louis’ arm as they picked their way back towards the barn. “But I think you’d like them.”

    “Do they like the snow too?” Louis asked wryly.

    “They love it,” Harry grinned. “They’re the only person who’s ever let me drag them into my snow dance.”

    “Really?” Louis asked, her mouth going dry. They kept walking but the snow didn’t feel as cold as it had a moment ago. “What else do they like?”

    “They love animals,” Harry said, smiling down at their feet. “They’ve got a whole barn full. And they love to bake. I’d really like to bake with them some more. And they love babies, which is the most important part. I could never like anyone who didn’t love babies.”

    They were almost at the barn and Louis couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face. She could feel her chest puffing up with every word Harry said.

    “Really?” she asked, feeling the perfect way their bodies pressed together even through both of their coats.

    “Really,” Harry nodded. “The only problem is,” she hesitated, “she’s married.”

    “Harriet Styles!” Louis grinned, stopping outside the barn and narrowing her eyes. “Are you flirting with me?”

    “It depends,” Harry smiled cheekily. “Is it working?”

    “Well I,” Louis thought, leaning back against the wooden doors of the barn. “I’m quite flattered to be honest.”

    “It’s easy to forget that you’re married.”

    Louis’ face fell.

    “It really is,” she nodded.

    “You know I’ve always had a thing for married women?” Harry asked from beside her. “My first crush was on my third grade teacher.”

    Louis turned her head to see how close their faces had gotten again. Harry’s cheeks and nose were bitten pink by the cold and her lips had turned dark red, glistening with melted snow.

    “Have you ever kissed a married woman?”

    Harry shook her head, eyes lowered to stare at Louis’ mouth.

    Louis leaned in and pressed her lips against Harry’s, feeling the cold half-frozen skin of her lips open up to the wet heat of her mouth. It seemed to fill her up from the inside out, warming her entire body and stilling the shivers that had been racking them both since they stepped outside. Then Harry pulled back and the spit left on Louis’ lips seemed to frost over instantly.

    “Mrs. Tomlinson!” Harry gasped, eyes wide. “What about your husband?”

    “Fuck 'im,” Louis mumbled, trying to lean back in.

    “I wouldn’t want to cause any problems,” Harry told her, looking conflicted.

    Louis wanted to scream. She wanted to tell Harry the truth and kiss her again. But maybe Harry wouldn’t want to kiss her again if she found out she’d been lied to all day. For years, really, if Harry really had been reading the blog that long. She might be mad, might never want to speak to Louis again. Might draft a much less complementary tweet that could ruin the entire empire Louis had built for herself.

    “Shit,” she sighed. “You’re uh, you’re right.”

    Harriet seemed torn, her eyes dancing over Louis’ face, and she opened her mouth to say something before Louis interrupted her.

    “Let’s go check on the animals and then we can go back to the house.”

 

    The walk back to the house was awkward and Harry almost told Lou the truth with every silent step they took. It was killing her, having to hold herself back. She wished she hadn’t said anything and had just kept kissing Lou. She wanted to confess everything but she was afraid that Lou might be mad at her, might think she was only playing along to make fun of her. What if Lou thought she’d only kissed her to catch her in her lie?

    Harry couldn’t tell Lou the truth, but she needed to say  _ something _ . The silence was maddening.

    “Lou, I - ” she started, stopping as they reached the porch of the house. Lou turned, not quite meeting her eyes, but she didn’t leave. “I really am grateful that you’ve let us stay here tonight. I know we’re imposing horribly but I’ve really loved being here. I was going to be stuck home alone this year and I was dreading it. It’s no good to be alone on Christmas. It just makes you lonelier. But my mum and my sister had both made plans to travel and all my friends are home with their families and I was gearing up to have a really rotten time but instead I’m here with all of you and it’s been so lovely and I really do feel awful because I - ”

    “Harry,” Lou stopped her, stepping forward until she was on the porch step above Harry’s. The couple of inches that Harry usually had on her were reversed by the stairs and Harry had to tilt her head up to see her. “It’s fine, really. I don’t think I would have had that great of a Christmas without you either. I mean, before you decided to come. Or Zayn did. Whatever. I just mean, my plans were a little bit different but I like the way they turned out. I get to spend the holiday with three of my favorite people, and Zayn seems alright when he’s not in business mode. And you. I like that I get to spend Christmas Eve with you.”

    “Lou,” Harry frowned, feeling the truth well up inside her before a violent shiver rang through her body.

    “Christ,” Lou muttered, grabbing Harry’s upper arms when she noticed her teeth chattering. “You’re freezing!”

    Harry hadn’t noticed the cold before, too caught up in Lou, but the snow she’d been rolling in had melted and started to refreeze all around her.

    “But, L-Lou,” she tried, wanting to tell the truth even if it killed her. “I n-need to-o...”

    “C’mon,” Lou tutted, pulling her up the last of the steps. “We need to get you warm.”

    “But I nee-eed to tell y-you...” Harry stuttered as Lou yanked open the door.

    They tumbled into the house, the warmth of the fire almost scalding against their frozen skin. They both froze completely when they saw the tangle of limbs on the floor in front of the fireplace.

    “ _ Liam? _ ” Lou gasped, still clutching Harry’s arm.

    Two heads popped up from the mass on the floor, Liam and Zayn’s lips both bitten red and a blush bright on Liam’s cheeks. He looked back and forth between them, a panicked look in his eyes.

    “Er, Darling!” he cried, unraveling his arms from around Zayn’s back and sitting up guiltily. “There’s, uh, something I’ve been meaning to tell you, um, for- for a while now... I know this isn’t, uh, isn’t the best timing, but...”

    Lou was looking up at the ceiling as if praying for a way out of it all.

    Liam continued to stutter through coming out to his wife.

    Zayn looked a bit amused by the whole thing.

    Finally, unable to handle another second of it, Harry burst.

    She let out the loudest barking laughter of her life, collapsing in on herself and falling to the floor. Tears welled up in her eyes and she clutched her stomach, aching with it. She laughed until it hurt to breathe, until she was gasping and coughing and her chest hurt. When she could finally open her eyes she saw the rest of them watching her with bemused expressions. She held up her hands to Lou who lifted her up automatically, her face filled with worry.

    “I c-can’t believe your hu-husband was about to shag my ma-anager,” Harry giggled at last.

    “Um, I- Er,” Liam frowned, still tangled up on the ground.

    “He’s, uh, he’s not,” Lou said, biting her lip. “Not my husband.”

    “I know,” Harry told her, still swaying on her feet.

    “You  _ know? _ ” Lou gaped.

    “Yes,” Harry nodded. “Now can I please get out of these wet clothes? I’m n-nearly frozen solid.”

    Lou frowned but followed her up the stairs and into her room.

    “You know? How do you know?” Lou demanded as Harry tried to unzip her suitcase with stiff cold fingers. After a few tries Lou nudged her aside and undid it for her while Harry sat beside the case on the bed.

    “I’m not an idiot,” Harry huffed while Lou pulled out thick socks and a jumper for her. “And you’re a terrible liar. Like truly awful.”

    “Shut up,” Lou muttered while laying out the clothes for Harry. “I’m a wonderful actress. I took improv classes in high school.”

    “I hope you didn’t pay for them,” Harry told her as she kicked off her boots.

    “I did a great job,” Lou insisted, settling herself in the center of the bed against the headboard. She picked up the old stuffed cat that Harry always slept with and set it gently on the pillow beside her. “How come you didn’t say anything sooner if you knew it was fake then, huh?”

    Harry shrugged, peeling off her coat and starting in on the buttons of her blouse. Lou saw her struggling with those too and beckoned her closer. She sat down beside her and let Lou undo each one with a quick flick of her fingers. Every brush of her warm hands against Harry’s cold skin felt like heaven.

    “I dunno,” she said while Lou worked. “I didn’t want to go home. I was being honest when I said I’d have been alone tonight. And I like it here, the farm and everything.”

    Lou hummed when she undid the last button and Harry turned back to her suitcase, slipping off the blouse and shoving it into her bag, even her bralette damp and sticking to her skin.

    “So why did you do all this?” Harry asked, gathering up the thick lavender jumper that Lou had laid out for her, her back still turned to the other girl. “ _ How _ did you do all this?”

    She could hear the quiet tick of Lou’s throat as she swallowed.

    “Well, to simplify things, I’m a bit of a fraud,” Lou admitted. “Back in uni I fell into this late night wormhole of mommy blogs and Pinterest boards and I started thinking about how much money these women made with, like, brand deals and sponsorships and stuff. So I made my own blog where I pretended to be this crafty housewife with a husband and a baby on the way, and it started out as a joke - like I’d slip in some weird stuff just to see if anyone noticed - but then I started getting emails from brands and I started getting these crazy amounts of views and it all got a bit out of hand really.”

    Harry looked over her shoulder to watch Lou as she talked, the lavender jumper pooling around her hips as she rolled the pink wool socks over her feet.

    “And then I got the call from Zayn who really didn’t give me much of a choice, and I knew that if you showed up at my shitty little flat in the city it would all be over because you’d be tweeting about how the great Lou Tomlinson was nothing but smoke and mirrors and I’d lose it all. Which would suck, because I’m quite good at being a fake housewife.”

    She gave a wry little smile and Harry returned it.

    “Luckily Niall and Shawn have this beautiful little farm and Liam and Niall both owed me a few favors.”

    “And the baby? You didn’t steal that, right?”

    “No,” Lou snorted. “That was my little brother. My mum should have picked him up while we were outside, I think. I’ll have to call her and let her know she doesn’t need to bring him back in the morning.”

    “Alright,” Harry nodded, tucking her legs under her where she perched on the edge of the bed, facing Lou at the headboard. “Any other lies you’d like to fess up to?”

    “Hmm,” Lou thought, leaning back against the headboard. “I’m really not great with big animals. I like the little ones but the big ones make me a bit nervous. And I can’t cook to save my life - the boys had to make dinner for me. I have never once felt anything close to attraction to a man, and my name is Louis. Nobody calls me Lou.”

    “Nice to meet you, Louis,” Harry grinned, inching up the bed. “Now, seeing as you’re not really married and you don’t really have a baby to take care of, how are your plans for New Year’s Eve looking? Anyone special you need to spend it with?”

    “I’m as free as a bird,” Louis grinned, taking hold of Harry’s jumper and bunching up the fabric in her fist.

    “That’s what  _ you _ think,” Harry laughed, tipping forward to drape herself over Louis, tangling their legs and pressing their lips together.

 

    Christmas day found all six of them cuddled up around the fire - Niall and Shawn taking their rightful places as the gracious hosts, Liam and Zayn back in their place on the rug, and Harry and Louis curled together on the couch - laughing and drinking and staying warm together despite the snow falling down all around them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> <3 <3 <3  
> [tumblr](http://lesbianiconharrystyles.tumblr.com)


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